Beauty of Annihilation
by katiemarie090
Summary: When Lydia Caxton's father goes missing, the only person she can turn to is family friend Lucius Malfoy. A mature story that follows the Second Wizarding War, everything it destroys, and the beauty that can rise in the wake of despair.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter characters, events, or anything else created by J.K. Rowling. I do in no way profit from this story.

Author's Note: This is my first story on this particular account, but not the first fanfiction I have ever written. However, it is quite a leap for me. I have wanted to write this story for so long that I finally decided to put down my thoughts and create this chapter, and a few others. I am not sure, though, if anyone will care to read it. This first chapter is a little bumpy because of introductions, and I promise that soon this will become much more fluid. :]

_August 23, 1994._

The quidditch fans of the world were still trying to piece together what had happened to them after the final match between Ireland and Bulgaria. The Ministry was filled with chaos, yet they did their best to try and downplay the attack that had occurred Monday night. Those who hadn't attended the match were left confused and anxious over what had happened. One young woman in particular, a Miss Lydia Caxton, was slowly becoming more and more restless.

Lydia was the daughter of Ophiuchus Caxton, a former Death Eater. That is, he had retired up until a few weeks ago. Ophiuchus had never spoken to his daughter about his role as a Death Eater. He saw no reason to do so. The war had ended when she was only six years old, and her mother kept her sheltered from the dangerous and 'evil' parts of society. But now she was nineteen, and her mother had passed away many years ago. Even if her mother had been around, there was no need to shelter an adult from the realities of the world. As her father had said, it would be dangerous for her to remain ignorant. And so, shortly after the Summer Solstice, Mr. Caxton informed his daughter that the Dark Lord was on the rise again, and he would have to take a place among his ranks.

The news was rather shocking for her. Despite being raised as the member of a pureblood family, there had been little talk of blood purity or the removal of muggleborns. Little did Lydia know that this had much more to do with how her father wished to please the late Mrs. Caxton (who was a very pacifistic woman), rather than how he actually felt about mudbloods polluting their world. In truth, Ophiuchus hated muggles just as much as any of the other noble pureblood families. The only thing that kept him from passing such prejudices onto his daughter was his wife's insistence that they let her grow up in blissful ignorance.

Little more had been said on the matter when Ophiuchus admitted the truth to his daughter. He dropped the subject immediately after she understood what this meant for him and left her alone once more. The next time anything at all was mentioned about the 'job' he had taken on was the day before the Quidditch World Cup. Mr. Caxton told his daughter that there was a task he had to partake in the following evening after the World Cup finished. He had been so vague that if Lydia hadn't been able to pick up on the unsteadiness of his voice and slouching posture she would have never known that it involved the Dark Lord at all. But those were the signs that her father was nervous. And what else did he have to be nervous over besides the fact he was once again a minion of the most evil wizard of all time?

That night Mr. Caxton had left after a short farewell to his only child. He told her he would be back early Tuesday morning at the latest. Lydia, still consumed by naivety, didn't question his word. Why would he not be back? The Dark Lord wasn't _really_ back. His followers were probably just going to see the game and then have a meeting somewhere, like any other organization would do on occasion. That is what Lydia told herself. And up until Tuesday evening she had done a fine job of convincing herself that he had simply gotten distracted and would be home any minute.

The minutes slowly ticked by. Soon sunlight gave way to the darkness of dusk, and the stars took their places in the night sky. With each hour that passed, Lydia found herself becoming more nervous. By nine 'o clock her hands were literally shaking with fear. Where was he? What had happened after the World Cup? Why had she not received the Daily Prophet today? Had something gone wrong? Was her father hurt? Was the Dark Lord back? New questions popped into her head simultaneously.

The witch did her best to try and distract herself from the worrisome situation she was in, but not even the best picks off her bookshelf could keep her attention for long. Something was wrong. She could feel it. It was the same sort of feeling she had gotten when her mother fell ill and tried to play it off as a cold. But this time things were much more delicate. She simply couldn't go to St. Mungo's and ask for help. The reason he was missing remained unknown to her, but she knew it had something to do with him being a Death Eater. And looking for help at the Ministry would damn him and her both. No. She would just have to wait it out.

So she sat at the dining table, wand resting on the wooden surface, twiddling her fingers about. Occasionally she would pick at her nails or a stray piece of lint that stuck to her clothing. Mostly, though, she just sat and stared into the crackling fire. But when the clock struck one am, Lydia could no longer ignore the internal conflict that raged within her mind. What if her father needed her help? Waiting would only prolong his suffering. But what if he came back and found her missing? Then he would be just as worried as she was! And even if she were to try and find him, where would she look? She had no idea where the World Cup was being held, since she had so little interest in Quidditch that she never paid attention to the news clips pertaining to the games.

She had to find someone, anyone who would know what had happened. But who? Immediately one man in particular came to mind.

Lucius Malfoy.

Despite the pardons he had received after the war, it was well known that Lucius had been involved as a Death Eater. There was no doubt in Lydia's mind that whatever happened after the World Cup involved Death Eaters. And whether or not Lucius had also rejoined the Dark Lord's ranks he would surely have attended the event. The Malfoys were always present at important events like that.

Fortunately for Lydia, Lucius and Ophiuchus were rather good friends. Or, at least, they had been. After her mother passed away Ophiuchus turned into a rather ghost-like man who rarely enjoyed much of anything. Still, he would visit Lucius on occasion for drinks, and once the Malfoys even came to her home for dinner. So even though she hardly knew the man very well, at least they had a reasonable connection. It wouldn't seem too odd for her to ask him about her father, and he would certainly trust the girl enough to be truthful.

Before the clock could even reach five past one Lydia had made up her mind. With her wand in hand, she apparated to the cloaked part of Wiltshire where Malfoy Manor was located. Surprisingly enough, she was able to pass through the gates without any trouble at all. If her mind had been in the right place she would have found this curious since the next annual party at the Manor wouldn't be until October; but at that point in time Lydia simply shrugged it off, thinking the Malfoys had been too busy to change the wards. And without another thought to the wards she dashed down the extravagant pathway to the front of the Manor, which was thankfully free of the pesky white peacocks.

Half a minute later Lydia stood in front of the large wooden doors that would allow her entrance to Malfoy Manor. She took a few moments to catch her breath after the tedious run. That was when her mind started to clear up a bit. Her eyes flicked up at the silver plated door knocker, then down at her feet. Standing there, alone and looking quite ragged, suddenly seemed silly to her. She became aware of the fact that her actions were rash and completely spontaneous. What was she going to say when someone opened the door? That she had a simple question to ask that could not be postponed by the amount of time it would take an owl to fly there and back? And then what? She would have to thank whoever answered her question, if someone did, for being gracious enough to speak to her at this late hour, and then return to her empty home.

The brunette let out a heavy sigh and clasped her hands in front of her face. _It's going to be okay. Just knock on the door, ask for Mr. Malfoy, inquire about father, thank him, and go home. _It was not a plan that guaranteed any good results, but given Lydia's naturally shy disposition, working up the courage to simply talk to someone could be quite difficult. In fact, at that moment she was more anxious about having to talk to Mr. Malfoy than the whereabouts of her missing father.

The thought of talking to him made her stomach do flips. It wasn't as if Lucius Malfoy was an easy person to talk to. He was a proud, critical aristocrat that made most everyone around him feel inferior. Even Lydia, who had been invited with her family to attend many parties hosted at the Manor, still felt like he thought she was no better than any stranger off the street. On top of that, he was incredibly gorgeous. For a quiet girl like her, speaking to a man like Lucius was like climbing Mount Everest. It would take all of her strength to get through the impending conversation.

_Just do it! The longer you wait the more anxious you will get!_

Lydia took a moment to steady her breathing and then she nodded to herself. _I can do this._ With that thought in her mind, the witch raised her hand to grab hold of the door knocker. She nervously raised it up and let it drop, before quickly repeating the process a few times.

In an instant the girl was filled with terror. Any second now that door would open and she would have to ask whatever elf opened it if Mr. Malfoy was available. What if he wasn't? What if she was wasting her time here? What if she actually had to go home without an answer?

Just as the anxiety began to overtake her, the heavy front door swung open. Standing behind it was a small house elf dressed in a tattered pillow case that clung to its owner's body.

"Hello misses. Pippy was not expecting you." The small elf squeaked. Lydia swallowed harshly and then nodded. _It's just an elf. You can talk to a bloody house elf, can't you?_

"I am sorry for disturbing the household at such a late hour, but I am in a very difficult situation at the moment and need to speak to Mr. Malfoy." Lydia did her best to look and sound confident. She even went so far as to look down her nose a little at the elf.

"I see. Pippy will go see if Mr. Malfoy is still awake and ask if he wants to talk to you. What's your name, miss?"

The elf didn't seem to be the least bit shocked with Lydia's explanation. It was almost as if that was a very common reason people came calling at the Malfoy Manor. But what did she know? Perhaps it was.

"Thank you. My name is Lydia Caxton, and you might mention that I am here to ask about my father."

The small elf nodded at her and turned around, but then seemed to remember something.

"Oh, so sorry miss! You may come in! Please, come in and wait inside." The house elf moved out of the way and gestured for the witch to walk into the foyer. Lydia smiled softly at her and walked into the large, open room. She had been there many times before, yet the sight still made her feel very humble. The walls were decorated with beautiful works of art, the floors made of an expensive marble, and the vaulted ceiling was so high above the floor that it would make even the tallest guests feel dwarfish. The brunette was so entranced that she hardly noticed that the elf had popped to some other location.

A minute or two later, Lydia heard a loud pop. Once again the meek house elf was standing before her, this time with its eyes lowered slightly.

"Mr. Malfoy will see you in his study now."

Author's Note: I would greatly appreciate your reviews for this story. I wish to know if it seems at all interesting to anyone else, or if I should just give up on this project. It would mean a lot if you left any sort of comments – even critical ones! Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter characters, events, or places that were created by J.K. Rowling. The plot and original characters are mine, but they are simply part of a subplot based on her work. I do in no way profit from this story.

Lucius Malfoy sat in his study on the second floor of the Malfoy Manor, staring blankly at his desk. The walls of the room were dark despite the roaring fire that danced in the fireplace. Grim shadows were cast against the floor when the light from the fire would take a moment to skip across the surface of a statue or bookcase. No doubt the room would make visitors nervous in its present state, but Lucius felt completely at home there. His study was his sanctuary; the place he could lock himself away in with his thoughts (and, on nights like this, a few bottles of firewhiskey.) and be perfectly alone.

Today had been one of those days where the master of the manor chose not to leave his hidden oasis. He was not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially as the letters from various important public figures piled up. Everyone wanted to know what he thought about the Death Eaters' attack after the World Cup. Even Cornelius Fudge had owled him, confiding in Lucius that he was unsure if this attack would lead to future riots and that he wanted to keep the incident as quiet as possible. The Minister had been one of the few people Lucius wrote back to, since he was undoubtedly the most important person to keep up appearances with. Though when reading his letter Mr. Malfoy couldn't help but smile devilishly to himself at how naïve Fudge was. He had no idea that Lucius knew every detail of the riot and the Death Eaters' intentions.

As the day turned to night, Lucius's commitment to responding to the letters diminished quickly. His mind was tired and worn, and he didn't trust himself to convey the sympathetic bystander he needed to be when writing. So, the man had turned to the trusted liquor cabinet to help calm his nerves. It was not as if Malfoy was an alcoholic. On the contrary, he thought being dependent on a drink was a disgusting quality for anyone to have. But on nights where he fought to maintain his own confidence in his life he wouldn't deny the amber liquid that would soothe him.

When Pippy had unexpectedly knocked on the door to his study, Lucius was shaken from his daze. The small elf came in to find his master looking even worse for wear than he had the night previous. Papers were scattered on his desk, empty ink bottles had rolled onto the floor, and in his hand there was a glass with half a sip of the amber liquid remaining. Immediately Pippy recognized the bottle of firewhiskey that was serving as a paperweight as being one the elves had bought only a week ago. Now there was a little over half of its contents left.

"Pippy is sorry for bothering master when it is so late, but there is a Lydia Caxton here who wants to ask you about her father. She said it was urgent." The house elf wrung the hem of her pillowcase in her hands as she spoke in her soft voice, making sure not to look Mr. Malfoy in the eye.

Lucius shook his head to clear his thoughts and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Lydia Caxton… That was Ophiuchus's daughter. For a moment he was confused over why exactly she would want to talk to him. Lydia was not a Death Eater, she would have no information for him. And surely everything she might want to know she could ask her father…

Suddenly Lucius's face turned a ghastly pale shade as reality crashed down on him. She was here to ask _about_ her father. Ophiuchus. He had been the only man that had fallen victim to the counter attacks thrown at them that night. Did she not know what had happened? The wizard quickly shoved away the letters that were in front of him, searching desperately for today's copy of the Daily Prophet. When he finally found it, Lucius began skimming the text that was featured on the front page. There was a list of those who had died and those who had been injured, but there was absolutely no mention of Mr. Caxton.

_Damn!_

Lucius let his head drop into his hands as he continued to curse beneath his breath. She had no idea that her father had been killed the night before. And now _he_ had to be the one to tell her? He was no good at being sympathetic or understanding. In the past he had been required to inform captives of the death of their loved ones, but typically he had been involved in the actual killing, and in those instances his goal was to appear as cruel and heartless as possible.

The blonde let out a loud sigh and waved in the direction of his elf. "Send her up," he stated flatly. This was not going to be good. He didn't feel comfortable when people cried around him, and surely that was in his near future. What's more, he wasn't _just_ going to tell Lydia her father had been killed. He would be telling her that she was now an orphan.

After the elf left, Lucius wasted no time in grabbing the bottle of firewhiskey and pouring a decent amount into his glass. A second later he had the glass pressed to his lips and threw his head back. The familiar burning sensation as the liquid went down his throat was both agonizing and comforting. Lucius licked his lips in satisfaction, obviously still taken with the taste of his drink. Deciding that it would be best to keep his intoxication a secret, he stowed the bottle and glass in a desk drawer. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back in his leather chair, hoping to rest himself enough, in the few minutes before Pippy returned with his guest, to look sober.

Less than five minutes later Lucius heard a soft knock on his door. He quickly rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth to ensure there weren't any dribbles of firewhiskey left before responding. "Come in."

Lydia cautiously opened the door before moving inside. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her and then took a deep breath. _You can do this._ She told herself. With a few more quick, reassuring thoughts, the witch had boosted her esteem enough to face Malfoy Senior. So, she turned around to finally face Lucius head on.

"I-I'm sorry for bothering you at such a late hour, Mr. Malfoy." Lydia's voice was quiet at first, as it always was, but she forced herself to speak up. Mumbling wasn't going to make the situation any easier. In fact, it would probably embarrass her even more in the long run.

Lucius was looking straight at the brunette, watching her every move intently. Despite the fact he had taken in quite a bit of whiskey, he still had _most_ of his wits about him. He could tell that the girl was anxious, but of course, that was to be expected at a time like this. She was here to ask about her missing father, and now was alone in a dimly lit room with one of the most powerful wizards in the world! Lucius smirked to himself when he decided that it was surely the latter of the two that made her so nervous.

"It's quite alright," Lucius replied in his silkiest of tones. "I was already wide awake before you arrived. Besides, I know that you are in a… dire need for information."

Unlike Lucius, Lydia had lost all of her confidence when her eyes caught his. At first all she could do was stare into his eyes – the icy, silver-blue orbs that could penetrate anyone's soul. Even from fifteen feet away, the witch was captivated by his eyes. It was only when she started to realize she was ogling him that she looked away. Pink stains became visible on her naturally porcelain cheeks. Lydia could feel the heat on her face and hoped with all her heart that the darkness of the room would keep her flustered state a secret.

Once she pulled her gaze away from Lucius' eyes she finally took notice to the odd nature of the room. Lydia couldn't recall having been in his study before, but she doubted he rarely kept it in such a state. The Manor always looked pristine and luxurious and she doubted that his private quarters were any exception. Yet there was parchment strewn everywhere, envelopes on the floor, empty whiskey bottles littered about – even Mr. Malfoy himself seemed to be… different. His hair was disheveled, something she had never seen before, for he was always looking his best. There were signs of stubble across his chin and jaw. And beneath his eyes were dark circles that indicated he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in some time. No doubt the recent Death Eater attack had kept his mind preoccupied for the past few days.

Lydia mentally chastised herself as she searched for a response. She willed words to leave her mouth, but even when her lips were parted she found herself unable to respond. However, this was nothing new for the witch. Whenever she found herself feeling especially nervous or flustered her ability to communicate verbally went out the window. Unfortunately, this only made situations more embarrassing. When it became apparent that this was one of those times, the brunette cast her eyes down to her feet.

Lucius furrowed his brow when the brunette didn't answer him. He knew she was nervous about speaking to him, that much was made obvious by her blushing and down cast eyes. But he had not said anything cruel or humiliating to her. Normally it took one of his condescending comments to push someone that far. _This girl certainly is a strange one…_ Lucius thought to himself.

"Why don't you have a seat?" He gestured towards a black leather chair that was on the other side of his desk. It was much smaller than the grandiose armchair he sat it, but it looked expensive and comfortable nonetheless.

With a nod of thanks Lydia shuffled from the spot she had been standing and over to the chair. She took her seat with as much grace as she could muster up, which wasn't much at all. Still, the ladylike habits that had been ground into her mind since childhood remained present. Lydia crossed her ankles neatly, folded her hands in her lap, and sat up completely straight. Despite the good posture that suggested confidence, she still couldn't find the courage to look him in the eyes again.

Lucius watched her with avid curiosity. He smirked inwardly when she sat down. The way she held herself dramatically changed, as if suddenly something clicked in her mind and she remembered how to present herself. He was almost sure this was not a conscious change, though. All respectable pureblood families trained their children how to act like young ladies and gentlemen, and these lessons on proper behavior were ingrained in their young minds almost as much as elitist ideals.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Lydia realized that she needed to speak up. She had been the one to storm into _his_ house, after all. She couldn't expect him to do all the talking! Besides, the questions she had were important. _Father could be in trouble. For once in your life get over your stupid fears and be brave!_

"Do you know where my father is, Mr. Malfoy?" Lydia finally asked. She absent-mindedly thought of how strange her voice sounded in the room compared to Lucius's own silky, smooth tone. It sounded too soft, too innocent to be in a room like this where Death Eaters had planned attacks and countless bottles of alcohol had been drank.

The instant the word father rolled off of her lips, Lucius grimaced. It was rare for him to outwardly present such an expression, but in this situation he had trouble masking his emotions. Lydia, who had been staring at the blonde's neck (which wasn't as overwhelming to look at as his eyes), noticed a change in his posture that told her something bad had happened.

"There is a reason he didn't come home, isn't there?" Her voice broke while asking the question, but she hardly cared. All of the anxiety and nervousness that had engulfed her mind for the past half hour suddenly disappeared. For the first time that she could remember, Lydia didn't care how Lucius, or anyone else for that matter, saw her. She moved her arms so that her hands were tightly gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. Soon her knuckles were white; the same shade that her face had become as the realization hit her. Something _very_ bad had happened.

Lucius let out a heavy sigh. He couldn't keep her in the dark; it would only make the truth more painful later on. Still, he was dreading the emotions that would spew from her once he told her what had happened. There was no easy way around it. And so, the wizard decided to drop the fate of her father as bluntly as he could. There was no use being subtle about this, for he would fail to get the point across if he did.

"I'm sorry Miss Caxton, but your father was killed during the riots."

Lydia's eyes locked onto his own for a split second when he revealed the truth. But in an instant she was looking at the ground once more. She felt her chest start to heave up and down when breathing became more difficult. Her limbs went numb to the point that she could only feel the blood pumping through her heart and in her head. For a moment she feared she would faint as the room around her began to spin. Just when the witch's vision began to darken she closed her eyes and shook her head, doing her best to try and shake away terrible feeling that engulfed her body.

When she opened her eyes again she was surprised to see Lucius standing in front of his desk, only a couple of feet away from her. She looked at his face for a moment and then glanced at the floor.

"O-Oh… I see…"

Lucius stared at her intently, a confused look now masking his face. For a second there he thought she was going to faint, but it seemed she was strong enough to prevent that from happening. He prepared himself to deal with her tears, but oddly enough, even after a few excruciating minutes of silence, none came. Her eyes were red, and her face was flushed with color once more, but she didn't cry. The older wizard wasn't sure if he should feel overwhelmed with relief, or be concerned about her sanity.

"D-Do… Do you know where his body is, Mr. Malfoy?" Lydia's question threw him off, as he hadn't been expecting it. But perhaps he should have. It was a reasonable question given the situation. "I want to have him buried next to my mother."

"I do not know exactly where it is, but it should be somewhere on the campsite." Lucius tried to sound as comforting as he could, but he feared he sounded as cold as he always did. Most of the time sounding malevolent came in handy given his lifestyle. But sometimes he wished he could consciously flick off his spiteful demeanor.

Meanwhile, Lydia thought back to what her father had told her about the riot he was to be attending. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what the flyers advertising the World Cup had said. But she had paid little attention to them, and there was no point in fighting the truth of the matter – she had absolutely no idea where the campsite was. With a sigh of defeat, the girl looked up at Lucius helplessly.

"Do you think, maybe, you might be able to possibly take me there so that I can find him?"

Lucius had to force himself not to smirk. He already looked like an emotionless bastard incapable of empathy, he needn't make matters worse. However, he did find her nervous additions to the sentence amusing. She obviously feared that he wouldn't be willing to help her, and was bracing herself for such rejection. But how _could_ he turn her down? She was one of his good friends' daughters, whom had found out she was an orphan. What's more, her father had been with him when it happened. No. Lucius Malfoy was many things: cunning, malicious, sinister, pompous… But he was not cruel to his own kind. Lydia had never been anything but polite to him and his family; she was an intelligent pureblood who stuck to their heritage; and any further excuses were cast aside when he looked at her face. Her pretty face staring back at him so helplessly made it impossible for him to deny her.

"No, I will not take you there."

Suddenly Lydia looked like she would finally cry, which caused Lucius to curse himself for mentioning the fact he would not take her first. He quickly continued so that she would not get the wrong idea. 

"It's a dangerous place right now, especially for someone who does not know how to protect themselves. You should not go anywhere near the site. However, I know I myself can handle it. I will go find his body and bring it to the cemetery where your mother is buried."

The brunette chewed on her lip as she considered his offer. It was noble of him to go there for her, however she knew it would be dangerous for him to go as well. Not for the same reasons, of course, but if Ministry officials saw him poking around the remains it might look suspicious. She didn't want Mr. Malfoy to get in trouble. But he wasn't lying when he said she would be unable to protect herself. Lydia had never been very good at dueling, and that was just at Hogwarts. Who knew what sort of thugs might be sneaking around the campsite, trying to loot whatever had been left unattended.

"I don't want to be a burden, sir-" Lucius scoffed at her and waved his hand in the air nonchalantly.

"You are not being a burden. However, if I took you along you may in fact be a very large one." Lydia sunk down in the chair meekly at that point. Mr. Malfoy turned around and walked back behind his desk where his cane was leaning against the edge of one of the drawers. He picked it up and gripped the silver snake head tightly within his right hand. "I am more than capable of handling myself and anyone who might try to attack me. And if there are any investigators walking around… Well, I am quite good at manipulating the idiots who work for the Ministry."

It was obvious that Lydia felt apprehensive about having Lucius go to the campsite for her. She looked as if he was about to be thrown into the lion's den. But by then it was clear that she would not be able to change his mind about the situation. Already the man had summoned a black velvet cloak and threw it over his shoulders.

"I want you to stay here. It will be much easier to find you if I know where you are. So make yourself at home, but do be, ah… careful. There are some items in this room that you wouldn't want to touch."

Lydia opened her mouth to ask him a question, but before she was able to get a word out Lucius had already disappeared with a loud 'pop'. And so, the witch slumped back in the chair, letting the emotions that had almost overwhelmed her before wash over her mind once again.

Author's Note: Thank you very much for reading! I hope no one minded the slightly awkward changes in perspective. It was only after I finished the chapter that I realized what I had done, but honestly I felt that was the best way to present the characters. Anyway, I would very much appreciate any reviews – whether they are super critical or just a couple of words. They make me want to write so much more.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter characters, events, or places that were created by J.K. Rowling. The plot and original characters are mine, but they are simply part of a subplot based on her work. I do in no way profit from this story.

0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.

The place that the blonde wizard apparated to looked like a wasteland. Once green grass had been turned into dark ashes that covered the ground. Instead of quaint tents in neat rows, the land now was dotted with charred stakes and tarps. Everything flammable had already been burnt to a crisp the day before, so the sky was clear of smoke. However, when the wind picked up, ashes would start to dance and twirled through the air. It was an eerie sight to behold, even for Lucius.

His piercing blue eyes searched the decimated campsite around the spot he had landed in. He tried to remember when he had last seen Ophiuchus the night of the riot, but it was of little use. The masks they had worn appeared identical in the night light, so it was almost impossible to distinguish one man from the next. He had no idea who exactly had been at his side at any exact time that night. With so little to go off, Lucius begrudgingly accepted that he would have to search for the body.

The first idea that came to his mind was simple enough. The wizard unsheathed his wand and pointed it out in front of him.

"Accio Ophiuchus's wand!"

Suddenly, a thirteen-inch long piece of birch came flying through the air towards Lucius, hitting him square in the back. Immediately the man whirled around to look at the wand which had assaulted him. It lay on the ground by his feet, now completely immobile. He bent over, picked the wand up, and then lifted it closer to his face for inspection. There were serpents carved into the wood that ran the length of the wand. The blunt handle end boasted a series of raised dots that depicted the stars of the constellation which Ophiuchus was named after. Yes, this was most definitely his wand.

Lucius let out a heavy sigh as he stowed the wand in the inner pocket of his cloak. He was sure that Lydia would want to keep her father's wand, as it was common practice to keep wands of dead loved ones if they were not buried with their owners. Whatever she decided to do with it was her business, though. He had only summoned it so that he could have a clue as to where he should be looking.

Now that he had a better idea of where the body was, the wizard started walking without hesitation in the direction the wand had flown from.

Lucius was a perfectionist, and he liked to have things take place in an orderly, precise fashion. He had envisioned this trip, this noble endeavor, as a simple set of steps that could be completed easily. Yet already things were not going as planned. As he walked, the landscape hardly changed. Everything looked the same. Slumped piles of debris that were charred and black, the remains of tent posts barely holding each other up, and layers of ash were all that he saw. More than once in the first the minutes did Lucius suspect he had found the body, only to be disappointed when he discovered that the 'body' was what remained of some luggage that had been left behind in the chaos. It was unbearably frustrating for him to not be able to quickly complete his task.

But he would remain true to his word, he was sure of that. He had told Lydia he would find her father, and he wasn't going to leave this campsite until he did! Otherwise he would look like a fool. It was such a mundane task, finding a body in a field. If he came back empty handed that girl would think him incapable, a buffoon! And he was not about to let that happen. So, Lucius trudged on down the dirt paths, determined to find his fallen friend. 

0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.

Meanwhile back at the Manor, Lydia remained seated, staring at the spot Lucius had just disappeared from. Everything seemed so surreal. She had actually visited the Malfoy Manor and talked to Lucius without making a complete fool of herself! The witch was bursting with pride. It was quite an accomplishment for her to say more than a few words to anyone, but to actually have a conversation with someone as intimidating as Lucius Malfoy? That was completely unheard of.

Lydia let out a soft sigh of contentment as she leaned back in the chair. A smile spread across her face as she thought back to how she had spoken with Mr. Malfoy. She truly was in awe of her newly found communication skills. But as she continued to recall the conversation, her smile faded.

How could she be smiling at a time like this? She had just found out her father was killed, and now she was happily reflecting on the conversation that had revolved around this horrid news?

A wave of self-loathing and anger rushed through the young woman, prompting her to jump up from her seat. Immediately she began pacing the length of the room, her feet pounding harshly on the marble floor. _What is wrong with you, Lydia? You come here to discuss your father's disappearance, and once you find out he is dead you cast your worries aside? And for what! To boast about talking to someone, a task normal people do every day. You're pathetic! What would mother say if she knew you cared so little?_

Lydia stopped in her tracks, her fists clenched by her sides. _I am not pathetic. I made a mistake. Mother would understand. And she would be proud of me for overcoming my fear._ She nodded to affirm this belief. Yes. Her mother would have been proud. And so would her father, though his rejoicing would have been much more subdued. It wasn't the best thing to be thinking of her own accomplishments at such a time, but she knew from experience that dwelling too much on the matter would only make it worse.

Then again, many could say she hadn't dwelt on her father's death at all. That was untrue. She had spent a good ten minutes thinking about her father and the consequences his passing would case. And in the years since her mother died she had spent countless hours trying to gauge whether or not the man raising her was still her father. After his wife died Mr. Caxton never laughed again, he never hummed while reading the paper, and he never told stories again. He had become a shell, a living corpse who merely shared the appearance her father had. In truth, Lydia had been preparing for him to take his own life for quite some time. It was strange, and very morbid, but in a way she thought he was rather like a horse with a broken leg who would be killed to end its suffering. Ophiuchus had spent years in mourning over his wife, secretly weeping because the love of his life was no longer beside him. But now he didn't have to suffer any longer.

And so, Lydia was not all that moved by her father's death. If one knew everything she had witnessed they would not be surprised by the fact she preferred thinking of her own small, recent achievements that gave her some sort of hope. Talking to Lucius was the first step. Maybe next time she would be asking someone to go to lunch with her. The possibilities were endless!

The witch smiled to herself as those thoughts passed through her mind. She knew such ideas were wishful thinking on her part, but were goals come from if we didn't dream?

But instead of continuing her socializing fantasies, Lydia decided to revert to old habits and find a book to pass the time. She walked over to one of the large bookshelves and ran her fingers over the spines. Most of them were made of worn leather and were obviously old. That made her cautious, as she didn't want to be responsible for ripping the pages of a priceless antique. But that wasn't the only reason. Ophiuchus had kept books in his study as well, and he warned her that not all of them were 'friendly'. She knew what that meant. Filled with dark arts, perhaps even cursed. And there wasn't a doubt in her mind that Lucius had similar tomes on those shelves.

To keep herself safe, Lydia went with a familiar title. _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_. She pulled the heavy, and slightly dusty book, off the shelf and cradled it in her arms. The room was still rather dark, so instead of going back to the seat across from Lucius's desk, she plopped down on a dark leather couch that was positioned in front of the fire place.

She let out a soft sigh when she sat down and then opened the cover of the book. Her eyes locked with the words on the front page, and after that, she was gone.

Almost an hour went by before anything in the study was unsettled again. But despite the loud pop that his apparation caused, Lydia did not realize Lucius had returned. Instead, her eyes remained glued to the pages of the book in her lap.

When he caught sight of her sitting on the couch, engrossed in some book, a thin smirk pulled at the wizard's lips and he rolled his eyes. So Lydia was a bookworm, was she? That had to be the reason she was still unaware of his presence. Either that or she had found a book that had devious intentions. That thought suddenly made the situation less amusing, and the wizard decided he shouldn't waste any more time staring at the girl.

Lucius took a step forward and cleared his throat loudly. Upon hearing him, Lydia jumped off the couch and twisted her head back to see that the owner of the house had returned."Mr. Malfoy! I didn't realize you had come back." Immediately she stood up and closed the book.

"So I noticed..." Lucius drawled. He watched as Lydia became flustered. She was obviously embarrassed by her lack of perception, and that only brought about another smirk on Lucius's face. He did so enjoy when others felt inadequate around him, even if he secretly believed they were above the common cut.

He casually glanced at the book that she held in her arms and nodded in approval. "A good choice. I am glad you didn't let curiosity get the best of you. I wouldn't want the wrong sort of book to fall into your hands."

A somewhat awkward smile played on Lydia's lips as she glanced down at the book. "My father had books I wasn't allowed to touch. Some of the titles you have reminded me of them."

Lucius nodded in a curt fashion that confirmed Lydia's beliefs. She didn't think any less of Lucius for keeping such books on display, but obviously he didn't feel it was appropriate conversation for their circumstances. Suddenly the witch began to second guess what she had said to him about the other books. Had her words been rude? Too bold?

These worries almost started to consume her, making it difficult to focus on the man before her. So, she promptly shook her head and went to return the book to its place on the shelf._ Stop worrying!_ She thought to herself. _That only makes things worse._

Thankfully Lydia had little time to continue chastising herself, as Lucius's smooth voice cut through the air.

"I left his body at the graveyard where your mother is buried. I assumed you would want to see that has a decent burial. I can help you with the task, if you like." Lucius wasn't quite sure why he was offering to help bury the man, but he supposed it was because he felt it would be wrong to force the girl to bury her own father, alone. Besides, Lucius had been one of Ophiuchus's last friends. Attending his funeral, even if it only had one other guest and no coffin, would be the proper thing to do.

When she finally worked up the courage to turn around and face Mr. Malfoy, Lydia looked very overwhelmed by his words. She had been prepared to bury her father alone, and she was extremely thankful that Lucius was willing to go with her.

"That would be wonderful!" She exclaimed. "I mean... I know it is late, and you have already helped tremendously, but if you wouldn't mind coming with me, I would be very thankful."

Once again Lucius nodded. "Of course." He walked towards her and then held out his arm. "I will apparate us there; it will be faster than having you leave the grounds so you can apparate on your own."

Lydia could only nod in response to this. She knew that only certain people could apparate in and out of Malfoy Manor, so it made sense he take them. However, the idea of clinging to Lucius Malfoy's arm was enough to make her cheeks turn pink. Even so, she forced herself to keep a straight face as she wrapped her arm around the crook of his elbow. A part of her felt almost giddy then, for she was on the arm of one of the most handsome wizards in the world. She could feel the soft mink fur of his cloak beneath her fingers, smell the scent of firewhiskey and spices that lingered about him, and sense of the confidence and power that exuded from him. It was almost pure bliss. Unfortunately, the fear that she would make a complete fool of herself lingered in her mind, making it much more difficult to enjoy her proximity to Lucius.

Soon Lydia felt the familiar, uncomfortable tugging at her navel of apparation, and she clung tightly to his arm. Just as the feeling of suffocation overtook her, they landed back on solid ground. Immediately the witch took in a deep breath and leaned closer to Lucius.

She had not visited the graveyard for a long time, but it still looked as it had on the day they had laid her mother to rest. Albeit, her funeral had taken place during a sunny afternoon, not in the dark, wee hours of the morning. But aside from the dramatic change in visibility, it was the same solemn cemetery. Rows upon rows of tombstones, some featuring statues atop them, covered the vast grounds.

The late Mrs. Caxton's burial site was not grandiose enough to make it stick out, yet Lydia remembered exactly where it was and how to get there. She started to move forward, arm still wrapped around Lucius's own, but she was halted after only one step as Lucius did not move with her. The girl turned to look at him, a cloud of confusion cast over her eyes.

"I need to fetch the body." Lucius stated bluntly. Immediately the witch he spoke to recoiled, suddenly embarrassed that she had thought he would escort her on his arm. "Go to your mother's grave. I will meet you there shortly."

Lydia nodded and gingerly removed her arm from the crook of his elbow. She took a step away from him, and immediately she missed his presence. It was rather frightening to stand alone in a cemetery during the dead of night. The witch truly wanted to beg Lucius to let her come with him, but she was held back by her longing to impress him (and surely he wouldn't be impressed by her acting like a spineless coward!).

And so, the pair split without another word being shared. Lydia began the short trek to her mother's grave, and Lucius walked toward the entrance gate where he had left Ophiuchus's body.

As if by instinct, her feet carried her to the location where, soon, both of her parents would rest. She never looked up from her feet until she finally came across the tombstone that bore her mother's name. The marble slab still sparkled against the moonlight, even though it had been through years of rain and wind. The post-burial mound of earth had flattened completely, which made Lydia cringe inwardly. Had it really been that long since mother succumbed to the pox? It seemed as if only yesterday she had heard the news that broke her young heart. But the landscape alone was proof enough that it had indeed been many years since that day.

The witch stood in front of the tombstone, solemnly starting at the words that were engraved into its surface. She became oblivious to the world around her; to the wind that made her curls dance about her face, to the calls of the nocturnal animals that made the forest lively, and, eventually, to the sound of Lucius's shoes as he walked along the path.

Lucius noticed that Lydia was standing completely still and again wondered if she was deaf. Once again he cleared his throat to inform her of his presence. This snapped the girl from her trance, though she remained still. She sighed softly and continued to stare at her mother's name.

"If she had stayed with us, none of this would have ever happened. He would have been careful and stayed safe. He loved her too much to risk anything before she died. Once mother was gone nothing mattered to him." Lydia let the words roll off her tongue in an almost morbid fashion. Her expression did not change, though her eyes did tear up a bit. The witch took in a deep breath and shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind. Only then did she turn to face Lucius.

The blonde had his wand held outward, keeping the lifeless body of her father levitating a few feet from the ground. It took every ounce of Lydia's self-control to keep her tears at bay when she saw the body. Earlier she had not even come close to crying over the news of her father's death. But now that she saw the corpse hanging in the air like some grotesque marionette her emotions ran rampant. Even though she did not cry, the look of pure devastation on her face made her feelings clear to anyone who might look at her. Lucius said nothing to the girl, though, for everything he could think to say would surely make him seem even more detached and heartless than remaining silent would.

Lydia stared at the floating body of her father for only a few seconds before her heartbreak forced her to turn away. She cast her eyes towards the ground and stifled a cry of anguish. Her trembling hand went to her pocket and removed the wand that was hidden within. She mumbled something, and then moved to walk in a rectangular fashion. A bold orange light emitted from the ground where her wand was pointed, and soon a chunk of earth was being pulled into the air and put to the side. A gaping hole was left just beside her mother's own grave.

"You can drop him in, now." Lydia whispered.

He stared at the girl, feeling rather bewildered. She had shown hardly any emotion before, but moments ago she was on the verge of tears. Now she once again appeared indifferent to the situation. Of course, he knew it was an act. He had spent his entire life watching people mask their emotions. But the fact that a girl in her situation was able to almost completely hide her feelings was unsettling. Would he have been able to maintain such a façade when he was her age?

Lucius decided it would be best to put these thoughts aside for the time being, and so he pushed them to the recesses of his mind. He nodded to Lydia and then carefully directed the body of her father into the open grave. After that, everything went silent. For what seemed like eternity, neither of them moved or said a word. Even the creatures of the night seemed to observe the moment of silence.

Lydia stared at the lifeless form of her father that had been placed in the ground. She shivered. The sight was rather ghastly. He was, undoubtedly, her father. Yet seeing him look so hollow made her question whether or not they were burying the right man. It was unbearably difficult for her to see him lying there. The one thought that kept her from crying was that his suffering was now over.

"Good bye, father." She whispered into the still air.

With a heavy sigh, the witch pulled out her wand once more and flicked it at the dirt. A large chunk lifted up into the air before being moved above the open grave and falling in. Lydia continued to bury him in this fashion, and soon Lucius was doing the same. In only a few minutes the hole had disappeared, and in its place was a small mound of earth.

But even then, the witch stood in the same place, staring at the spot where, beneath six feet of dirt, her father's face was. Lucius noticed how her gaze had not moved and inwardly groaned. He couldn't very well just leave her there. Taking her home would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But it might prove difficult to pull her away from the graves of her parents. He would just have to turn on the Malfoy charm, which would surely convince her to go home before it got any later.

Lucius pointed his wand at the head of the grave and conjured a bouquet of white orchids. He then walked over to where Lydia stood and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Reunited with his wife at long last... I'm certain there is nowhere else he'd rather be." Lucius purred quietly.

Lydia simply nodded. Truth be told, his arm had knocked her from the thoughts that were whizzing through her mind, and his voice had made goose bumps rise to cover her arms and legs. Yet she kept herself together, most likely because of the morbidity of their location. Eventually she turned her head to look up at Lucius, her eyes still slightly pink due to her unshed tears.

"I suppose we should both be getting home." Her voice was almost unnaturally soft as she spoke to him. If he hadn't been so close, Lucius most likely would not have been able to hear her at all.

"Yes, I think that is a good idea. You are probably exhausted. I know how draining it can be to go through something like this." Lucius's soft voice lulled Lydia into a much more peaceful state of mind. She started to lean into him again and found his scent to be intoxicating. It allowed her to close her eyes and mentally distance herself from the reality of their situation.

"I'll take you home, alright? I want to make sure you arrive safely."

Lydia nodded and Lucius took that as his cue to apparate. In an instant they were being pulled through time and space. When they landed on Lydia's doorstep she found that the terrible sensation of apparation had knocked some sense back into her. So, once they landed and she was sure that she would not fall, the brunette took a step away from Lucius and smiled up at him awkwardly.

"Thank you Mr. Malfoy. I don't know what I would have done without you. It really means so much to me, and I... Well, I hope one day I can somehow I will be able to repay you." Lydia stated, her eyes looking up at the blonde earnestly.

"It was my pleasure to be able to assist you, Ms. Caxton, even though the conditions were quite depressing." Lucius gently took her hand in his own gloved one and raised her hand to his hand to his lips. He placed but one delicate kiss on the back of her hand before letting her arm fall back to her side. "And if you have any other problems concerning your father, or his passing, do not hesitate to write me."

Lydia had practically melted when Lucius kissed her hand. Her eyes looked glazed as she continued to stare up at him in wonder. She was so lost in her dreamy admiration for him that his words barely registered in her mind. But when he was finished speaking she nodded anyway.

Lucius smirked. He knew exactly the sort of spell he had put the girl under. It was the same sort he had charmed dozens of girls with in his life. Knowing he still had the ability to make women swoon only strengthened his ego.

"Until next time, my dear." Lucius turned to walk away, but after his first step he seemed to remember something and turned back around. "If the Ministry happens to contact you asking about your father's death, do talk to me before you tell them anything."

Again, Lydia could only nod in response. But that was just fine with Lucius. It was much better that she wasn't asking questions that he didn't want to answer. With that, Lucius turned away again and apparated, leaving a very lonely and conflicted young woman behind.

0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.

Author's Note: I know it took a long time for me to post this chapter. However, life got in the way a bit, and on top of that I had a hard time writing this chapter. I wanted to show a somewhat different side to the Lucius we always see while remaining true to the character. I hope I did that well enough. As always, any reviews are greatly appreciated!


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